


Day shall come again

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Passion and Anxious Care [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, Fingon 'Buddy talking about sex is DEFINITELY harder for you than having it' Nolofinwion, First Time, In which Maedhros is pedantic about virginity despite losing it repeatedly, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Maedhros 'Talking about sex is almost as hard as having it' Feanorion, Plus a very special cameo, Rimming, at the worst possible time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: In which Maedhros loses his virginity, or tries to, in the face of semantics, societal constructs, and himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [День придёт](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395852) by [rio_abajo_rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rio_abajo_rio/pseuds/rio_abajo_rio)



> 0\. ‘Aurë entuluva! Day shall come again!’ cried Fingon, and Maedhros said, ‘Is that my new nickname?’
> 
> 1\. All my thanks to Lion for the beta and the research into refractory periods (6 in 36 minutes guys! they tested!) 
> 
> The Aurë entuluva joke is hers.

“You should just do it to me once to start, really quick, in and out,” Maedhros suggested. “Get it over with.”

Fingon looked horrified, but Maedhros thought it made a lot of sense.

He felt the fact of his virginity hanging around his neck like an albatross – like a burden he just wanted to be _rid_ of – and while he hadn’t thought about it much before he’d started dating Fingon, now he was thoroughly sick of the fact that it existed. He wanted his first time with Fingon to be special because it was _Fingon_ , not because it was his first time ever. He wanted Fingon to be thinking about him and ideally about how amazing he was at sex, and how good everything felt, and how this was by far the best redhead he’d ever slept with, not worrying about Maedhros’s delicate and virginal –

state.

So he had suggested doing one round that didn’t count just to get the deflowering technicality over with, followed by the real, much better thing.

“That’s not really – I don’t think – ” Fingon looked flustered. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Mae.”

Maedhros hung his head.

“Not that it doesn’t make sense!” Fingon grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I think I understand what you’re saying. But… I don’t think I’m capable of having ‘doesn’t count’ sex with you.” He chewed his lip and his voice went quiet. “Having sex with you is too – I want it be – ”

“I wish it didn’t have to burden both of us, is all,” said Maedhros. “The virginity thing.”

“It’s not a burden,” said Fingon fiercely. “It’s not even real! For god’s sake, Maedhros, we’ve already _had_ sex.”

Maedhros thought frantically back. “I don’t think we have.”

Fingon tugged his own hair, a gesture that meant he was holding back something impatient. “I _knew_ you should have taken that Women’s Studies class with me. Baby, the concept of virginity is a heterosexist construct. Being unpenetrated doesn’t have to equate to being virginal unless you subscribe to the patriarchy-imposed notion that - ”

Maedhros looked at him.

Fingon sighed. “What I mean is. Dick in ass isn’t the only way to have sex.”

Maedhros blushed.

But Maedhros’s blushes rarely stopped Fingon, and he kept going despite Maedhros’s attempts to match his skin color to his hair. “We’ve had orgasms together, we’ve touched each other in all kinds of ways, we’ve spent the night together, and you have definitely interacted with my penis. How does that not count as sex? So boom, you’ve done all sorts of things and you don’t have to worry about the totally fake and artificially hyped up concept of virginity that you feel burdened by but really don’t need to because there would be nothing wrong with it even if you _were_ a virgin, which you aren’t because – ”

“Because I’ve interacted with your penis.”

Fingon let go of his hair and broke into a laugh.

Maedhros managed a smile too. “I guess I know all that. But I still feel like it’s there and I wish we could ignore it.” He knew deep down that Fingon would be incapable of ignoring the fact that it was his first time and would be gentle and loving with him. While the concept wasn’t unappealing, he’d always pictured sex with Fingon as unrestrained and full of passion. Gentle delicacy was a bit of – there was no escaping the phrase – a boner killer.

He tried to explain this, staring somewhere over Fingon’s left shoulder all the while to hide his embarrassment.

Honest communication about sex was proving almost as difficult for him as the act itself.

But Fingon listened, and when he was finished, took his hands. “Maedhros Dingbat Fëanorion,” he said. “I will be happy to take you – with passion, without restraint, with reckless orgasmic bliss – as many times as you would like. And then you can take me. And then we can do it again. I will also occasionally have gentle, careful sex with you, because that is also nice and I like it.  The first time _may_ be one of those. There’s a chance.”

“That’s not my middle name.”

Fingon kissed him on the forehead, having to stand on his tiptoes in order to do so. “Your virginity isn’t an albatross,” he whispered. “Our first time together is going to be new for both of us. And our second time is going to be even better. And I love you.”

It was the first time he had spoken the words.

“I love you too,” said Maedhros Dingbat Fëanorion, and tried not to cry while he said it.

 

* * *

 

The irony was that it took a good three days after that for them to actually get down to it.

First Maedhros had an interview for the long-shot fellowship he’d applied to – a shock to both of them, though Fingon loyally pretended he’d seen it coming – and he’d had to dedicate a day to preparation, a night to insomnia and anticipation, and a morning to the interview itself. Then Fingon had been invited climbing by some old friends, and Maedhros, who was practicing giving as good as he got in terms of support, urged him to go. So Fingon had gone, and Maedhros had missed him immediately and moped around the apartment and wished he’d listened to Maglor and gotten a hobby. With nothing else to do, he’d stolen Fingon’s sweatshirt to sleep with and turned in early.

“You could have just slept in my bed,” pointed out Fingon, when he crawled into Maedhros’s at 2am. “But that’s really cute.”

“You’re back,” mumbled Maedhros, not properly awake, lifting his head from Fingon’s sweatshirt. Fingon wriggled around to get comfortable while Maedhros wrapped around him like an octopus and fell back asleep against Fingon’s neck.

Then they’d only managed a few kisses in the morning before Maedhros had to drag himself away for a morning of family brunch and evading questions about what had given him those ‘hideous bruises, good lord.’

“It’s from his new hobby, Dad,” Maglor had said, mouth full of crepe.

Maedhros kicked him under the table.

“What hobby is that?” Feanor asked.

“Handball,” said Maglor, and only complained a little when Maedhros upset his orange juice into his plate.

When he finally got back, Fingon pounced on him and dragged him back to his room at once. “It is a crime,” he announced, “how little I have seen you without pants in the last three days.” He proceeded to remedy the situation by dragging them off, socks and all. Maedhros, who wholeheartedly agreed, let him.

He unbuttoned the grey shirt he’d pulled on over his t-shirt and brushed a bit of crepe from the collar. “Are we going to… you know. Try it?”

Fingon was busy getting out of his own clothes. “Maybe. If you want. Let me try something else first?”

“Okay,” said Maedhros amiably. Fingon could have suggested waterboarding as foreplay and he would have been game.

He stretched out across the bed and raised himself up on his elbows so he could watch as Fingon knelt on the floor between his legs. Fingon kissed Maedhros’s stomach, then wrapped his arms securely around Maedhros’s hips, tugging him right to the edge of the bed. This felt like something they had done before, so Maedhros closed his eyes and waited to feel Fingon’s mouth on his cock. Instead he felt Fingon spread and lift his legs slightly and –

He yelped, his eyes snapping open. “What are you doing?”

“Imf that a trick qmuestion?” Fingon’s face was obscured between Maedhros’s thighs but he raised his head so he could meet Maedhros’s startled gaze.

“No!”

“Oh, well, me? I’m performing analingus.” Maedhros could feel him grinning.

“You don’t have to,” said Maedhros, his face getting hot. “Isn’t that – You know that’s – Oh my _god._ ”

Fingon had ignored his feeble protests, something he was getting adept at. His tongue ran up Maedhros’s thigh until his face vanished again and Maedhros tried not to squeak.

“You really don’t – ” He tried one last time, and then his toes curled against Fingon’s back and he dug his fingers so tightly into the sheets he thought he might tear them. Fingon was incredibly, unnervingly good at this. It was a sensation that made him feel vulnerable and debauched all at once, and felt far too good to hold on to his instinctive feeling of shame. Fingon’s mouth on this intimate part of him was too intense, the lightest circles of Fingon’s tongue having him hardening instantly against his stomach. He opened his mouth to tell Fingon actually he could keep going if he wanted, but what came out instead was frantic babble as Fingon’s tongue dipped into him.

“Oh my god, no, please don’t stop, _help_ – ”

Fingon chuckled. He was still moving his tongue in lazy strokes, pausing now and then to turn his attention to Maedhros’s balls, and Maedhros’s hadn’t known his dick could get this hard while being entirely neglected. He couldn’t stop making high-pitched noises, his head turned desperately as he tried to press his face into the pillow. He wanted to shove himself down on Fingon’s tongue, shove himself open and grind against Fingon’s mouth, but he had to hold back, had to resist –

“Let go,” murmured Fingon, and the hum of his voice against Maedhros’s flesh only added to the problem.

“If I let myself go,” said Maedhros in misleadingly steady tones, to make up for all the whimpering and squeaking, “this is going to be over before you – oh no, oh no, oh _no – ”_

Fingon paid his warning no heed and instead pressed two fingers, wet with saliva, between Maedhros’s buttocks. It was the gentlest pressure, hardly penetration at all, but combined with the steady lap of his tongue it had Maedhros arching back and coming so hard he completely ruined the t-shirt he’d forgotten to take off.

When he could see colors again Fingon was kneeling next to him, wiping his mouth and looking at him like he was an incredible and precious discovery.

“So we can make you come without touching your dick,” he said. “That’s something to file away and use forever.”

Maedhros grabbed him and pulled him down and it was a good thing Fingon was not wearing a shirt because his would have been ruined as well.  Not that either of them cared much. Fingon, while slightly more composed than Maedhros, was making eager noises into Maedhros’s mouth, his fingers tight in the collar of his shirt. He straddled Maedhros’s lap, kissing him and pressing tight to his chest until Maedhros squirmed in sudden discomfort.

Fingon’s grip on him loosened. “Am I hurting you?”

“Ah, no, not quite,” whispered Maedhros, gasping. “I just – ahh – too sensitive.”

“Oh yeah.” Fingon pulled back so that he was no longer grinding against Maedhros’s groin and removed his hands from Maedhros’s shoulders. He touched his own swollen lips like he was verifying they were still there and looked at Maedhros with shining eyes. He was horribly beautiful like this, naked to the waist, his chest and stomach slick with sweat and Maedhros’s come, and Maedhros felt a leaping satisfaction at the bulge between Fingon’s legs.

“Don’t go though,” he added hastily, as Fingon slid off his lap, and Fingon laughed like he had said something hilarious. “Don’t go, let me – you deserve to – what can I do for you?”

“Here.” Fingon rolled free of him and stretched out on his side. He beckoned and Maedhros wriggled back into his open arms, laying his back to Fingon’s chest. Too late, they both remembered the mess. Maedhros groaned and Fingon laughed and they sat up to wipe off a little. Maedhros pulled his shirt off and then Fingon tugged him back down and Maedhros curled up against him, feeling warm and safe and only a little sticky. He could also feel Fingon’s erection poking him in the back and it made his stomach flip with anticipation.

“Are you going to…” Maedhros trailed off as he felt Fingon’s hand again – not on his ass, where he’d expected it, but lower, between his thighs, urging them apart. Fingon’s fingers were slippery with something, and Maedhros shivered to feel the wetness on his skin. He could feel Fingon’s breath between his shoulder blades and his hand moving between their bodies and he braced himself, terrified and elated.

“Spread your legs a little,” whispered Fingon, and then – “Now press them together again.”

Maedhros’s breath caught. Fingon hadn’t slid into him but between his thighs. He could feel Fingon’s erection pressing against the underside of his balls, brushing his softening cock, and he felt excitement build in him again. Fingon wrapped an arm around his waist, palm open over his belly, and began to thrust between his thighs.

It was awkward to begin – Maedhros didn’t know what he was supposed to do, and in his eagerness to move in a manner that was pleasing to Fingon he pushed his hips back and collided with him in a way that wasn’t sexy at all.

Fingon just laughed and kissed his spine, his hands steadying Maedhros’s hips. “I love your legs,” he murmured. He ran his hand down Maedhros’s long, pale thigh, and Maedhros tightened reflexively against his touch. Fingon’s breath stuttered against his back and Maedhros got better after that, moving with Fingon instead of against him, flexing his thighs and pressing his ass back into the curve of Fingon’s pelvis. He kept waiting – hoping – for Fingon to pull back and realign himself, to lose control of his caution and enter Maedhros roughly, even brutally. He wanted so badly for Fingon to just _do it_ , to take what he wanted from Maedhros’s body, but Fingon resisted.

It was maddening.

Still, as Maedhros grew agitated thinking of Fingon ravishing him, Fingon was clutching hard at Maedhros’s stomach and waist, his movements becoming wilder and less controlled. His cock was moving slickly between Maedhros’s thighs now, nudging below Maedhros’s balls, and Maedhros was starting to get hard again. As Fingon gasped and bit on the bony wing of Maedhros’s shoulder blade, Maedhros wrapped a hand around himself and began to pull in rhythm with Fingon’s thrusts, gasping only a little at how sensitive he was.

“Mae,” groaned Fingon. “God, you feel so good.”

Savage joy ripped through Maedhros – he was making Fingon feel like this, his body was giving Fingon pleasure – and he moaned too, feeling Fingon throb between his legs. He angled his hips back again, wanting to open himself up, wanting to urge Fingon to take more, to go deeper – but Fingon was shaking against him, whispering garbled words against his skin, his palm slippery on Maedhros’s belly. Maedhros urged the hand lower, and Fingon fumbled and grabbed Maedhros’s cock.

“Ngod, you’re hard already?” he whispered. “Fuck, you’re amazing. Fuck, you’re a natural.”

In response, Maedhros reached back and grabbed Fingon’s hip, his fingers digging into Fingon’s firm flesh, not letting Fingon move more than tiny rolls of his hips.

Fingon gave a broken moan and then he was coming, hot and wet between Maedhros’s thighs, and Maedhros looked down to watch. He only realized his mouth was open when Fingon’s tongue found it; Fingon was bowing over his shoulder to kiss him, and his hand was gathering the come from between Maedhros’s thighs and slicking it over Maedhros’s cock in turn and it was too filthy, too much, and Maedhros came too, trembling and almost too over-stimulated to stand Fingon’s hand more than another stroke.

It wasn’t late but they slumped back to the sheets as exhausted as if they’d stayed up through the night. Fingon had just enough presence of mind to tug the blanket back over them and then he was drowsing, his head against Maedhros’s back.

Maedhros wiggled out of the wet spot and made a disappointed noise to realize it wasn’t so easy to escape. “We should shower,” he whispered.

“Mmm.” Fingon made no move to get up.

But Maedhros’s skin was unpleasantly tacky and starting to feel chilled and he was damned if he was going to sleep like this. “Come on.” He tugged Fingon up, ignoring his roommate’s protesting sounds, and they ended up in the shower together like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was another first, and normally it would have felt monumental but instead it felt mundane and comforting, like something they did all the time. Something they _should_ do all the time, clearly. Maedhros propped up a sleepy Fingon and ran soapy hands over his stomach, blinking water out of his eyes and letting Fingon play with his wet hair.

Back in bed, Fingon sprawled out at once, face down and naked, his arms stretched under the pillow. Maedhros watched the shine and shift of the muscles of his back and ran his hand over them, half amazed that someone as strong as Fingon could fit so perfectly in the crook of his arm. Then he laid his head down on the pillow, watched beads of water clinging to Fingon’s dark curls, and fell asleep waiting for the droplets to fall.

He woke with a jolt a couple hours later. They’d rolled apart in sleep and for a second he thought he was alone in bed. Then he turned over and saw Fingon’s sleeping form and remembered the realization that had awoken him.

He poked Fingon awake. “Fingon,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“We never ended up having sex.”

Fingon’s eyes fluttered and he yawned. “What?”

“We never had sex after all.”

Fingon’s eyes were open now and he gave Maedhros a Look. “Never had sex? Buddy, I just made you come twice.”

“You’re being pedantic,” whispered Maedhros.

“No, you are.”

“You know what I _mean_.”

“I guess I do.” Fingon swallowed another yawn and rolled onto his side. He wrapped his arms around Maedhros’s waist and pulled him close, nuzzling into his throat. He kissed Maedhros’s ear, then his cheek, then his nose. “You’re very sexually demanding, did you know that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s hot.” Fingon’s tongue teased the lobe of Maedhros’s ear and Maedhros squirmed. He wanted to kiss Fingon again and did, capturing his tongue between his lips. Fingon murmured happily and wound his arms around his neck. The sounds he was making were reminding Maedhros of what they had done before falling asleep, and he coughed meaningfully.

"So. The actual thing?"

Fingon rolled his eyes but didn't look at all put out. In fact, he was grinning. “Right, the actual thing. Do you want me to talk you through what it’ll be like?”

“I,” Maedhros swallowed. “Sure.”

Fingon thought for a moment and then cleared his throat. He sounded so businesslike that Maedhros half expected him to pull out a laser pointer, but instead he rolled onto his back, pulling Maedhros on top of him. “First,” he murmured, “I would get some lube. It’s over there on the bedside, you can open it."

Maedhros stretched out an arm for it; this explained what Fingon had used earlier. His hands were shaking a little with anticipation, but Fingon's voice was easy and calm.

"Pass it to me – or don’t – oop, there you go, already some on your fingers. Don’t let it get on the sheets. Okay, we have lube, what will I do then?”

Maedhros attempted bravado. “Is that a trick question?”

“Don’t be cheeky. I think I’ll have you spread your legs. Like this.” Maedhros felt Fingon’s legs part beneath him. “And then I’ll reach between them with my slicked up fingers.”

“Wh - Oh.” Maedhros blinked, trying to keep up. He felt Fingon take his wrist and guide his hand between their bodies, scooting back a little so he had room. His hand slid slickly over Fingon’s cock, already hardening, and then Fingon urged him lower.

“I’m going to press one finger into you,” said Fingon softly, “just the tip, so slowly, press it in until I can feel the heat of you and how you’re tightening around me.”

Maedhros stared at him, mesmerized. His hand was cupping Fingon’s balls and as Fingon spoke he let himself press the tip of his index finger _into_ Fingon.

It was hot and tight and terribly intimate, and he was riveted by the look on Fingon’s face, how his eyelids fluttered and his lips parted and how, below, he felt a responsive clench of muscle.

“Then I’m going to press deeper,” said Fingon, his breathing deep and deliberate. “Still going slow to let you open up for me, until I’ve got two knuckles in and – _god_ – then I’m going to curl my finger, just a little.”

Maedhros did so, and Fingon bit his lip and squirmed beneath him.

“A little – deeper – is how I would – ah! – just like that.” He was shaking a little in Maedhros’s arms, and Maedhros was starting to get hard again, amazed that he was doing this, astonished to be _inside_ Fingon. It was not at all what he had imagined.

“Then I’d add another finger,” whispered Fingon. “Start to really…open you…up.” His hips were moving subtly now, and as Maedhros negotiated another finger, Fingon squeezed his eyes shut. He looked like he was trying to hold himself back. “Then another,” he said, when Maedhros had taken his hint and begun to move his hand to the rhythm of his hips, “because I know you can t-take it. And then, when I’m sure you’re doing okay, I’m going to start to thrust harder.”

Maedhros felt Fingon’s nails bite into the back of his neck. His own breath was coming quick now and he dropped his head forward, trying to look at where his fingers were sliding wetly in and out of Fingon. His hair was hanging into Fingon’s face but Fingon didn’t complain.

“Then,” Fingon said raggedly, “when I have you just – on the edge – I’m going to – _fuck_ – pull my fingers out. Slowly!”

With some reluctance, Maedhros did.

“I’ll have gotten hard just watching you,” whispered Fingon, staring up at him. “You’re so beautiful coming apart like that and I’ve wanted this for so long… So I’m going to get a condom – over on the nightstand – and roll it onto my dick and use the lube again to get myself ready and then – Jesus, _please_ – I am going to start to push my cock into you.”

Maedhros fumbled the lube and got the condom the wrong way on the first try, but once he was ready and Fingon looked like he wouldn’t be coherent for much longer, he let himself do exactly what Fingon described.

The resistance wasn’t what he had imagined but still Fingon let out a soft cry at the intrusion. The sensation of Fingon tightening around him was overwhelmingly intense, and Maedhros paused to get ahold of himself. He was unable to fathom that he was doing this, that he was making love to his best friend, that his roommate’s legs were wrapped around his waist, and –

“What happens next?” he whispered.

Fingon took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’d move slowly and get myself all the way in you,” he said at last, and Maedhros recognized the trembling of his fingers and the flicker of his eyes as barely maintained control. “And then – hnn, Mae, you feel – you _would_ feel so good – then I’d start to rock into you.”

Maedhros did as he was instructed, moving in slow, shallow strokes until Fingon was panting beneath him and no longer playing.

“Oh! Oh, please, more..."

"Am I - "

"Yes, yes, you’re doing so good – God, I’ve wanted this for so long, oh, please go faster. _Please_ , Maedhros.”

Maedhros had liked the game, had liked Fingon telling him what to do, but he discovered he liked Fingon begging him even more. He drew his thrusts out longer, pulling almost all the way out of Fingon before sliding back in because it made Fingon plead so spectacularly. Sometimes he would lose the angle and Fingon would press him back and arrange him with hands on his shoulders and knees at his sides until Maedhros could push in and hit the spot that made Fingon cry out his name.

Maedhros was so lost in the sensation of it all, so overcome with love and excitement that at first he thought the doorbell was an auditory hallucination brought on by sexual pleasure. Then,

“Mae,” croaked Fingon. “Mae, I think someone’s at the door.”

“No.”

The doorbell rang again.

“Yes,” groaned Fingon. “Fuckshitcock.”

“Should I – answer it?” It sounded like an impossibility to withdraw from Fingon right now, but the sudden horrible thought crossed his mind that it might be his father at the door. He pulled out quickly and got up, grabbing Fingon’s bathrobe from the back of the door. Fingon made a noise of profound loss behind him.

“Better cover up,” said Maedhros, looking back at him and immediately regretting having gotten out of bed. Fingon was tousled and frustrated and naked and beautiful and it was a crime to leave him, but –

The door.

Resolving to make up any lie he had to to keep his father from coming in, Maedhros made his way over and opened it, not actually having any suitable lie in mind. His mouth opened involuntarily at the sight of the person on the other side of the door. It _wasn’t_ Feanor, but he felt no relief to see who was actually standing on the doormat. Instead, he felt his something burn all the way down his throat into his stomach. He closed his mouth, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

It was Fingon’s ex boyfriend.

They stared at each other. Maedhros took in the familiar, loathsome red ponytail, the peacoat with the collar turned up, and then the box clutched in thin arms. The Ex Friend in turn was taking in Maedhros’s tangled, loose hair, the bathrobe open over his bare chest, and –

Flushing deeply, but not as deeply as the Ex Friend, Maedhros twitched his robe more tightly around himself.

“What do you want?” he demanded. He was pleased to see that the Ex Friend looked distinctly nervous at the sight of him and he felt a mix of shame and smugness to remember their last encounter, which had involved him punching a wall.

“I have some of Fingon’s things,” said the Ex Friend in his thin voice. “I texted him that I could return them today. So I am here, returning them.”

“Oh.” Maedhros stared at the box, which looked to be heavy from the way the Ex Friend was clutching it. “I can take it.”

The Ex Friend looked like he didn’t want to let him, angling his body and the box away from Maedhros’s grasp. “It’s Fingon’s.”

“I know, I can take it for him.”

“Mae?” They both froze at the sound of Fingon’s voice, the Ex Friend’s fingers slipping on the box. Fingon appeared around the corner in just his shorts, his curly hair wild. “Was anyone there or are you just talking to yoursel – ” He drew up short as he took in the sight of Maedhros and the Ex Friend. His mouth dropped open and for a moment he gaped silently. Then he blushed too. It was, Maedhros thought, a much better look on him than it was on the Ex Friend. 

“I have a box of your things,” said the Ex Friend tightly, in response to Fingon's mute confusion. “I texted you - I told you I could come by today to drop them off.”

“You did?” Fingon looked confused and then mortified. “You _did_. I’m sorry, I totally flaked – hang on.” He fumbled around the corner of the bedroom door to grab his pajama pants off the hook and slipped them on, a blush still evident on his cheeks.

He padded across the floor and took the box from the Ex Friend with a murmur of thanks. Their fingers brushed as the box changed arms, and the Ex Friend jerked like he’d been burned. Fingon looked concerned and remorseful and Maedhros felt something knot in his stomach.

Fingon looked up at him. “Mae, can you give us a moment?”

The knot tightened. “What?”

Fingon tipped his head down the hall. “Could you – I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Oh. Yes. Sure.”

But Maedhros didn’t go far. He loitered in the kitchen to get one of Fingon’s Gatorades – he hated them usually, but considered he might be getting dehydrated. He tried to drink it with the right amount of casual ostentation, all the while desperately trying to overhear their conversation. But Fingon shot him a quick, meaningful look, and Maedhros dropped the Gatorade into the recycling bin and turned back down the hall to Fingon’s bedroom. He took off the robe, looked down at himself, and immediately wanted to put it back on again. Instead he sat naked and clammy on the edge of the bed and stared into space, listening to the rise and fall of voices from the front hall. The Friend’s voice was getting higher and fainter but Fingon’s was low and gentle, and Maedhros’s stomach twisted again until he felt as nauseous as if he’d eaten something bad.

When Fingon came back in, looking a little sad, Maedhros glanced up at him.

“What’s in the box?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Fingon dropped the box on the ground with a thud– Maedhros had been right, it was quite full. “Clothes, deodorant – just stuff I kept at his place for when I spent the night.”

“You were over there a lot.” Maedhros looked at his hands and wondered how many boxes their relationship would fit in. “Brought a lot of things.”

“I – yeah. I wanted to be sure I had a toothbrush if I was staying over. Y’know.”

“You have a toothbrush here.”

“I do.” Fingon smiled crookedly. “I have a lot of things here, it’s very handy.”

Maedhros kept examining his hands. He felt suddenly awkward, as if he and Fingon were only just getting to know each other rather than having been making love not twenty minutes before.

“So what are you going to do when you need to get away from me?”

“What?” Fingon had been crossing the floor to the bed, his hands outstretched to pull Maedhros in for a kiss, but now he dropped them. “What do you mean, get away from you?”

“You used to say,” said Maedhros to the floor, “after spending a weekend or something with a boyfriend how nice it was to get home and have some space. Even though it was nice to be with…him, you liked being able to have some time to yourself.”

“I mostly said that to cover up the fact that it was you I wanted to get back to,” said Fingon softly. “Didn’t you ever guess?”

“But it makes sense to have space sometimes. You can’t have that from me. We already live together.”

“That’s true.” Fingon hesitated. “But we have different rooms. Sometimes. I know it’s – I thought we could – Why are we having this conversation now?” He stretched out his hands again. “I thought we were doing something else.”

“We were, but then your boyfriend came by.”

Fingon dropped his hands again. “My _boyfriend_ ,” he said, “is sitting naked on my bed, being an ass.”

“Sorry,” said Maedhros wretchedly. He knew he was being horrible, but couldn’t seem to hold it back. “Your ex, I meant. But look – what if you need to have a home place where your toothbrush lives _without_ your boyfriend, because it’s easier to have a separate weekend place with a spare toothbrush for boyfriend times than it is to have one at home, a boyfriend I mean, and if you don’t have the home space – ”

“I don’t need it. I just need - I just want you.” Fingon sat on the bed next to Maedhros but didn’t touch him. He was angled slightly away, like the Ex Friend had angled to keep Fingon’s things away from Maedhros. “I thought you knew that. I do know it’s risky to date your roommate, I’m not an idiot, but I kind of just thought,” he blinked hard, “I thought maybe we were just skipping ahead to the place we’d end up anyway.”

Maedhros’s heart leapt at that, even as his stomach kept twisting with anxiety. “But what if doing it out of order breaks something?”

“Are you saying you want to move out?” The words came out thin and scared, totally unlike Fingon, and Maedhros felt instantly convinced that moving out would be the worst idea in the history of ideas.

“No,” he said, and put his arms around Fingon. Fingon leaned into him, but his shoulders were stiff and still angled away. “No, _no_ , I don’t want to move out.” He kissed Fingon’s head because he couldn’t figure out a better way to pretend the rest of their conversation hadn’t happened. With some effort, he got Fingon to turn and face him, but Fingon immediately hid his face against Maedhros’s shoulder and wouldn’t look at him.

“Do you want to not date me?” said Fingon in the same small voice.

“ _No.”_ This was such a ridiculous suggestion that Maedhros held Fingon tighter. He was panicking again, but not because of the box or the Ex Friend, or the fear of doing things out of order. He was dangerously close to making Fingon cry, and ‘not making Fingon cry’ was the lowest bar he had set for himself. “I want to date you – forever. And I’ll live in – in your bed, ideally.”

Fingon gave a faint laugh and clung to Maedhros’s neck. “I get scared sometimes,” he said, and Maedhros curled his fingers into his hair because Fingon still wasn’t looking at him and his voice was very soft and Fingon was never afraid. “I get scared that I’m going to wake up and you won’t be here. That you’ll change your mind.”

Maedhros wanted to ask why on earth Fingon would fear such a thing, but he swallowed the question at the last moment. He knew the answer was ‘every aspect of your personality.’ He shook his head blindly.

“I know I’m supposed to be brave,” whispered Fingon, “but I worry so much about losing you… I can’t believe I ever even _got_ you…”

No, that’s how _I_ feel, Maedhros wanted to say, but didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he disentangled Fingon’s arms from his neck so that he could lift Fingon’s chin and look at him. Then he kissed him to banish both of their fears, and kept kissing him until Fingon was clinging to him again and making gasping sounds that were almost like crying and saying, “Maedhros, Maedhros.”

There were things that needed to be said and conversations to be finished, but every time Maedhros talked he made things worse. He decided the talking could wait and that it would be far better to focus on getting Fingon out of his sweatpants and into the bed and back to the place they’d been before, with Fingon making noises only of pleasure and Maedhros doing something _right_ for once.

He thought about confidence and envisioned strength. He put one hand on the small of Fingon’s back and the other below his thigh and scooted him back towards the pillows. He brushed Fingon’s hair out of his eyes and spoke in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Fingon’s.

“We never finished,” he murmured, and watched Fingon shiver. “You were showing how you’d make love to me…”

Fingon rubbed at his nose and grinned shakily. “Yeah, I was, wasn’t I? How was I doing?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” said Maedhros in the same low voice, almost a growl, surprising himself with how effective it was. “You were doing very, very well.”

“Was it like you imagined,” whispered Fingon, sinking back as Maedhros slowly pressed him down. “Am I as good as you imagined?”

“Better,” Maedhros informed him. “But we need to change something.”

Fingon looked guilty. “Yeah?”

Maedhros let himself smile very slowly and watched Fingon shiver again. “It’s my turn for a demo _._ Want to see how _I’ve_ been picturing you fucking me?”

“Yes,” said Fingon hoarsely, and Maedhros tossed him back onto the bed, jerked his pants off, and showed him.

 

* * *

 

For the second time that night they drifted off to sleep together, damp and tangled in the sheets, Fingon in just the right spot against Maedhros’s shoulder. Maedhros was half asleep, drifting into contented dreams, when a thought occurred to him.

“Technically,” he mumbled. “Technically you still haven’t had sex with me.”

Fingon sat up immediately and hit him very hard with a pillow. “For fuck’s _sake_ , Mae. Are you kidding me?”

“I just mean… I still haven’t had you in – You know. Not that I’m complaining,” said Maedhros, as Fingon’s eyes narrowed. “But I always thought we were going to do it the other way around. And we haven’t. Does it still count?”

“Oh my god.” Fingon rolled away and pretended a sulk until Maedhros cajoled him back. It took a bit of doing; the sulk was only half pretend.

“It was still very nice!” Maedhros stroked Fingon’s hair. He thought about how it had felt to watch Fingon orgasm beneath him, _because_ of him, and re-evaluated. “It was amazing. But I still kind of feel like I’m a half virgin, or something.”

“Lord. Just for that,” said Fingon, snuggling into Maedhros’s chest, “I’m going to punish you.”

“How?” asked Maedhros with interest.

“I have to come up with something good, but just wait,” mumbled Fingon. “It’ll be devilish.”

They lay together and Maedhros listened to Fingon breathing.

“Do you remember that thing I said the other day, when we were talking about this?” murmured Fingon.

“You called me a dingbat,” said Maedhros, but he knew what Fingon meant. He had hardly thought of anything since.

Fingon must have guessed this, because he smiled. “Yes, well, that again,” he said, and nibbled on Maedhros’s neck.

“Likewise,” whispered Maedhros, and knew that however he cut it, it counted.

**Author's Note:**

> 2\. I would say this really is the last of this AU I'll write, but I also said that before I wrote 6k words of this sequel, so


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